Year New

Evolution is survival. There seems to be some confusion about the definition.
Each day represents so many reasons to get lost in mad confusion.
I am a healer but I need healing.
Why are people not kinder? Am I fat? Did I feed the cats? What should I eat next? Did I eat? What is the reason I continue finding reason to hope that we can move beyond catastrophic self-obsessional ways?

Colours fade in a black and white world.
Black Lives Matter. Brown Lives Matter.
Stifling images leaving little room for differences, curves. Any truth or common sense on how to preserve life dies.
To many prescription pills. Mental health is an epidemic, too much weight and pressure on all our shoulders.
Look how they try and hide your story, omit your songs and hopes from existence.
Extracting creativity is the only true way of preserving stories of actually being human. Repress what you should be and express what you need to be.
Humility is not defined by religion. Check a history book, religion is an institutionalization of belief that has been the reason for so much destruction. A trap to entice the gluttony of greed in your neighbourhoods, communities, mind.

That doesn't seem very human. Who have we become?
It isn't easy on some days, but there's always brighter days - just like Tupac said.
As the new year rolls in fill your body and the whole wide world with thoughts of all that is dear, healing, happy and raising the disenfranchised voices and ways of living.
Know better, because knowing is better.
2017 I want to get away from all these mislead human intentions - hate, sexism, phobias and racism. Removing fashion of disenfranchising realities and finding a way to reflect only the lights we all carry within.

Giver and Go-Getter

I tried so hard to tell myself that it was all worth the fears, the anxieties, the broken hearts, or perfections that seamlessly came apart some day. In desperate times I felt as though my mind had gone, I had to learn to fall and catch myself annoyingly frequently. To keep moving in a direction that would remind me to breakaway from the confines of the skin I needed to shed, what it feels like for a queer woman of colour some days, or simply what it takes to remain human.
Somehow I could not forget all the ones I love(d). The touch of the clearest blue ocean cleansing my skin, washing away all the weight holding me from becoming free. The sand exfoliating the feet I relied on to be the foundation of bringing me up to face the world again.

Ready or not, whatever I didn't want to come, came. So much of what was dear, became a smile in the memories of broken glass reflecting haunting images like the Phantom of the Opera singing to himself at night.
Floating pieces in my belly.
I restore my faith each day, I don't get down on my knees to pray. I don't like bowing unless it is for elders I respect. Does that make me unethical, a devil woman with a reason to wreak havoc in this muthaf$cka?
I carry myself each day. I know what it feels like to be me, to carry myself when I am not sure I truly understand anything. Well except honouring my drumming heart, the simple but vital act of breathing or catching breath, trying to be smarter and forgiving myself for my mistakes and my limitations based on what's left to exhaust.
Fumes some days. Fire others.
I still believe in love. I'm saving all my love
just like Whitney.

Psyche Mirrored Escape Room 81

They treat us like we are numbers.

If they don’t like the way we look, the way we feel, what we deserve, what we occupy, views

They like to turn their backs and report us to terrorist authorities who claim an imitation and privileged sense of justice, caring little for equal opportunities and more about attaining power for the greedy few with a limited palette for the truth, sharing, being kind and decent human beings, just being that way

Don't turn off the lights, but see they lurk  like cowards with propaganda to disenfranchise us from finding purpose

Mental health is mental wealth.

All while we are trying to find footing and balance in a world that can seem so out of control 

How many tears need not be shed from tragedies that were social responsibility?

The root of excess and striving to be an illusion, not encouraging us, not even seeing us

I use to think it was harsh to think, but I can’t deny the way I see such an difference for any conviction

We treat each other over the course of what we claim as evolution, without really asking  what we need, our hopes, and it puzzles me

Why don't people with instinct send up for the elder on the subway? 

Why does everyone look like they are running to and from themselves? 

Such a confusion of slow and fast moments, not knowing what's next, but swearing to have some flex to stay on top of the world

No reason holding on to a dream that's gone

Running, running, everyone has somewhere to go, but are the lights on, is anyone home?

Some days I just feel fed-up

I wonder how to maintain purpose, but I never lose my core

I gain motivation knowing the stories I have been told and I have to tell myself

Keeping the motion of the words I find with me, planning my great escapes with imagination as a visualization of the world I can see us all doing better in.